Author
owns no rights to Firefly, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Fanfic only.

--

Jayne
sighed in exasperation as Mal turned down the job. It would have paid
a goodly amount of coin, and there was no good reason to say no that
Jayne could see.

He
followed Mal back to the ship in silence, knowing it was useless to
argue. Since Zoe's announcement that she was expecting, this had
been the way of it. They took only the easiest jobs, those that
practically guaranteed no violence, and, as a result, no real payday.
They were flying, and eating, and that was about it.

"What's
wrong with you?" Mal grumbled, eyeing the silent Jayne.

"Nothin',"
Jayne replied. "Why?"

"You're
sulkin'," Mal informed him. "Wanna know why."

"I
ain't," Jayne protested, seeing the ship in the distance. "I
know what you're doin', and why. I don't gotta like it, and I
don't. But I ain't said nothin'."

After
Miranda, Jayne had seriously thought about leaving. He hadn't
because somewhere along the way he'd started thinking of the crew
as family, and the ship as home. And they'd needed him.

He
couldn't say that, of course. Not that they'd believe him anyway.
And, if he was honest, he didn't care. He'd never done things
with what others thought in mind, anyway.

But
Mal had been down, hard, and so had Simon and Kaylee. Zoe wasn't
much better. Inara and River hadn't been physically injured, but
emotionally they were both wrecks. Jayne had been shot, and had
several broken bones, but no one had really cared about that. He was
Jayne, after all. Why bother worrying about him?

Jayne
hadn't minded that, either. It had been a while since he was around
others that cared for him more than they could get out of him, and he
didn't mind. He knew what he was about, and that was all that
mattered.

Light
years away, on a dusty moon that no one visited very often, was a
large family. They would have done all right for themselves, if not
for a very sick child. A child that needed medicine every day to
live. Expensive medicine.

Jayne
had been sending money home ever since he'd left that moon, to help
pay for that medicine. Thanks to Miranda, and the Operative, and now
Mal's hesitancy to do better paying jobs, that money had stopped.
Jayne had sent word that things had been slow because of ship
troubles, and that he wasn't dead. Once things were fixed, he
promised, he'd be sending money home again.

Only
it was four months since the ship was flying again, and there was no
money to send home. Jayne had stopped spending money on himself, all
together, and had sent every cent he could scrounge to his folks, but
it hadn't been much.

Mal
was as well as he'd ever be, and so was everyone else, except maybe
the girl. She had seemed to improve some even in the last month. He
figured it was the fact that she didn't have so much of that
Alliance poison about Miranda and the like in her mind anymore. Lord
knew, it was a terrible burden for a child to have to bear, let alone
one who could no longer block the images projected into her mind.

Bottom
line; they didn't need him anymore.

As he
and Mal walked the last few yards to where Serenity
sat, Jayne made his decision. They were on Persephone. This was as
good a place as any to get off. If Mal didn't take a decent job
this time, when the ship left, it would do so without Jayne Cobb.

--

River
was on the catwalk when the two men entered the ship. She had felt
them coming, felt the turmoil running from both men. Mal, disgusted
that he couldn't take an otherwise good paying job for fear of Zoe
and her baby, Jayne disgusted for the same reason.

She
frowned at the sudden color change around Jayne. He'd made a
decision of some sort. What it was she couldn't tell, but it had
eased his turmoil some. Gave him some peace. An important decision.

Was
he going to turn on them? She didn't think so. He had been a solid
bulwark while the ship was down and so many were injured. His
presence had prevented any idle wanderers from trying to take
advantage, and provided a sense of security for both herself, and
Inara.

He
hadn't been truly friendly, mind, but he had been understanding.
Whenever she'd awakened from a nightmare, alone and afraid, Jayne
had been there. When Inara had had trouble with a dock worker who
fancied her, Jayne had been there. When a passing tough had eyed
River, as if recognizing her, Jayne had been there.

There
was no tangible to put a finger on, but Jayne had not been the same
of late. She didn't know why, and hadn't bothered to question
it.

Now
she did.

--

"So
you leavin'?" Mal demanded, eyeing Jayne in the cargo bay.

"I'll
let ya know," Jayne told him, and started for the stairs. Mal
grabbed his arm.

"I
wanna know now," Mal said, almost threateningly.

"I
don't know,
now, Mal," Jayne replied, shrugging Mal's grip off. "I just
know that if something don't change, I gotta change. I can't keep
workin' like this. Or not
workin', I guess'd be more accurate. I got responsibilities, and
I need coin to take care of'em."

"Responsibilities?"
Mal scoffed. "You?"

"Yeah,
me," Jayne tried not to bristle, but it was difficult. "Odd as
that may seem to you," he added, his voice calm, and reasonable. He
wasn't mad, and was determined not to let Mal's needling make him
that way.

"Fine,
Mal," Jayne sighed. "I'll get my stuff. Be out in an hour or
so." With that Jayne started again for the stairs, leaving Mal with
a stunned look in his face.

"Wait
a minute, Jayne," Mal called after him, but Jayne shook his head.

"No,
we're done, Mal," the big man called over his shoulder. "My
business ain't yours, no matter what you think. And I stayed this
long cause I figured you needed me. But it's clear you figure you
don't. And that's good enough for me. I got things I got to take
care of, and I need to be workin' to do that."

With
that Jayne was gone, passing through the galley, and out of sight.
Mal watched him go, still in shock.

He
hadn't been trying to push Jayne into a decision. Not really. He'd
just felt surly after the job hadn't been right, and took it out on
Jayne. But apparently he'd pushed too hard.

"Shouldn't
push," River said quietly from the railing above him. He looked up
at her.

"I
didn't mean to," he admitted.

"Yes,
you did," River smirked. "Always pushing, seeing how far you can
go. Push too hard one day. He will push back."

"And
how long until danger finds us?" River pressed. Mal shrugged again.

"Don't
know that either, little one." River turned and left, following
Jayne through the door to the galley.

--

Jayne
was already sorting through his things when he heard a knocking at
his hatch. He frowned at that. No one knocked on his hatch. Mal
pounded on it, Zoe kicked it, and no one else bothered. He walked
over and opened the hatchway.

"You
are leaving?" River asked without preamble, descending into the
bunk.

"You
did not answer my question," River said as she reached the floor,
ignoring his statement.

"Yeah,
I'm leavin'," Jayne didn't quite growl. He gave up trying to
get rid of her, and returned to his packing.

"Why?"

"I
ain't needed here," Jayne shrugged. "Ain't never been, I
guess. But I know I ain't now. And we ain't workin' enough to
do more'n stay fed and flyin'. I can't do that. I got things
gotta be seen too. Mal ain't gonna do anything at least till Zoe's
had her young'un, and like as not, won't after, neither."

"I
know that," River agreed silently. "Had you not cared, you would
have gotten off before Miranda."

"'Spect
that's true," Jayne admitted after a moment.

"You
should stay," River told him, her voice nearly toneless. "Home."

"I
ain't got no home, girl," Jayne replied. "My doin', mind, so
I ain't blamin' nobody but me for it. Ain't no place for me,
an' ain't no place wants me, 'cept when they need me to do
somethin'. This here place ain't no different."

"It
is," River objected. "People here need you."

"No,
River girl, they don't," Jayne said flatly. "There ain't no
work on this ship for a merc. And ain't likely to be, I'm
thinkin'."

"So
Jayne thinks," River teased, and Jayne actually chuckled.

"Once
in a while," he nodded. "Try not ta make a habit of it, mind,"
he added with a grin.

"Thinks
more than you'd like us to believe," River replied. "More than
some would believe."

"Folks
can think what they want," Jayne shrugged again. "Makes me no
never mind. Never has. Or at least," he added, softer, "it ain't
in a long while."

"How
old are you, Jayne?" River asked suddenly. Jayne looked at her.

"Thirty-four,"
he told her. "Why?"

"Just
wondered," River shrugged this time. "Curious."

"Gettin'
old for this kinda work," he admitted. "Ain't got too many more
years, and I'll be too slow. Someone'll kill me, and that'll be
that."

"Very
well," River said quietly. "Wish you would stay," she added. He
turned to look at her.

"No,
you don't," he smirked. "But it's a kindness for ya ta say
so."

River
left without another word. Jayne watched her go, and wondered what
that had been about.

--

Jayne
made his way through the passageway and down the stairs, his heavy
bags light in his hands. He glanced at his weights, but there was no
way to take them along. He'd miss'em, but he'd get more, once
he got back on track.

He
stopped at the door, looking back into the ship. He hadn't
forgotten anything he'd need. He'd left a lot behind, but he
didn't need it, and there was no sense in carrying it. The bay was
empty.

Jayne
smiled softly to himself. Wasn't like anyone would be caring that
he was going, anyway. He hadn't expected any tears, or kind parting
words.

Turning
back to the door, he hit the ramp release, and waited as the ramp
settled. He hit the com.

"Mal,
might wanna send someone to secure the ramp. I'm gone." He didn't
wait for an answer before hefting his bags and heading down the ramp.
He headed up the docks, leaving Serenity
behind. He hated doing it, if he was truthful. But he didn't have
no choice.

Soon
the ship was far behind, and Jayne Cobb was once more a gun for hire.
No home, no future, and no hope.

Not
since the day he'd killed a man for attacking his sister. A man
whose father was influential. Jayne could never go home, never see
his folks, his siblings, again. Never see his nieces and nephews,
watch them grow.

"Lookin'
for work, friend?" he heard someone ask, and turned. The man was
short, but well muscled. Clean-cut, dressed in worn but well cared
for work clothes.

"Might,"
Jayne nodded. "Depends."

"Name's
Taggart," the man offered his hand. "I do a lotta business here
'bouts. 'Fraid a good bit of it attracts unwanted attention. Can
always use a good man with a gun."

"And
what do you pay a good man, when you can find one?" Jayne asked,
eyeing the man closely.

"Twelve
percent of the net," Taggart replied. "Better'n most, but I'll
have to be honest and tell you. You'll like as not earn it. Trouble
seems to follow us."

"Who
is us?" Jayne asked. Twelve percent?

"I'm
the Captain of the Valkyrie,"
Taggart grinned. "We usually take jobs no one else'll touch.
Started out doin'em just to see if'n we could. Now, well, we just
do it for the pay."

"I
don't mind working for my money," Jayne said honestly. "What
about bunks?"

"Ain't
got but six crew, you'd make seven. Everyone has their own, 'cept
my first mate and his wife. She's the pilot."

"Sounds
like a job, then," Jayne nodded. "When you need this gun hand?"

"Be
leavin' soon as we get him," Taggart admitted. "Got a job
sittin' in the hold right now, but need to replace a man we lost.
He got tired, I guess. Got off here while back, took to bein' a
marshal or some such. He was a decent gun hand. Man'd have to be as
good as him to rate twelve percent. You got a name?"

"If'n
all you've said is straight, then yeah, I do. I don't much care
to be lied to, mind. Ship o' yours a good ride? I ain't looking
to ride in no death trap."

"Good
ship, and better mechanic," Taggart grinned, showing no signs of
being offended. "And good food, too, when we're near to port.
Hard to keep fresh food for long," he shrugged. "We make good
money, Cobb, just have to work for it, sometimes."

"Sounds
like my kinda job," Jayne smiled suddenly. "What say we head over
and take a look?"

--

Down
the docks, River had followed Jayne with her mind, feeling him drift
further away. She was surprised that he was sad to be leaving. There
was something riding him, hounding him, almost. She couldn't see
what it was, but knew it was there.

She
felt a jolt from him suddenly, and tried to catch a glimpse of him in
the crowd. The people thinned long enough for her to see Jayne
talking to a man, then the two were swallowed again by the sea of
humanity.

River
felt Jayne's mind swirling around the offer made him, and felt a
flash of satisfaction at some point. There was no way to sense what
it was, but it was there.

And
then, Jayne was gone. In his place was someone new, someone she
didn't know, or recognize anymore. He had reverted from gunhand to
merc again.

She
sighed sadly, realizing that Jayne would not be coming back to them.
She had believed, right up to that very moment, that he would turn
around and come back.

Knowing
that he would not, she reluctantly closed the ramp, and started up
the stairs.

There
would be one more empty chair at supper tonight, after all.

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